Too Weak
by Reclaimer
Summary: Lorrenzo nearly falls to an Abomination during his early training.  Names used with permission
1. Chapter 1

Too Weak

"Too weak! Still too WEAK!!"

Lorrenzo furiously swipes an arm across his desk. Parchments, pens, bottles of ink, and assortments of books scatter in every direction, crashing and fluttering to the floor of the small apartment above Murder Row of Silvermoon City. The mageling fumes, his eyes burning with emerald fire so vicious that they threaten to set his very face ablaze. Smoke curls from his now clenched fists as he paces like an angry panther in its lair.

The memory is all too fresh; his constant search for greater, more potent power has proven to be inconsequential... thus far.

The Ghostlands. That's where he was. Those wretched Forsaken had sent him out after monsters; two giant Abominations, fleshy, flesh devouring creatures of the Scourge. Lorrenzo had marched confidently down the Dead Scar, annihilating all of the mindless zombies in his path. He could still smell the putrid rot of their burning corpses.

He had found one of the Abominations, the one known as Luzran had come, lazily strolling down the Scar as if he were on a Winter's Vail walk through Wonderland... and Lorrenzo had stood in its path, fire erupting into his palms, sparked by the mana of his race, and he knew... he KNEW he would incinerate this grotesque behemoth. The fire arced from the mageling's hands with a ferocious cry and devastating power... yet when the smoke cleared from the impact explosion, there stood Luzran.

And the creature... laughed.

Lorrenzo slams his fists down upon the wooden table set against one wall of his apartment. Sparks pop from beneath his clenched fists, and the mage's frustrated fury drives the mana of his body into his hands once again. The mageling's hands burst into angry flames and Lorrenzo cries out again in his frustration.

"DAMN IT!! Too... WEAK!"

Lorrenzo stands from where he had fired, boggling in surprise as the Abomination charged with thunderous steps in his direction. The creature continued to laugh; a muderous, ravenous sound; as he approached. The mageling grunts loudly in frustration, calling his mana into his palms again as he roars in defiance at his adversary. Fire erupts once again in his palms, and he hurls the flare into the face of the oncoming Abomination.

Luzran grunts in a startled, confused pain. The Abomination staggers backwards, reeling from the blow to his face. His flesh smolders and smokes and the reek of his rot fills the vicinity.

Lorrenzo cries out his defiance once again. He had won!

Luzran regains his footing. The creature, amused at first, goes into an uncanny rage. Blood oozes from his putrid, massive form as the fleshly juggernaut barrels towards this puny, little elf. Luzran swings his massive cleaver in a wide arc.

Lorrenzo narrowly dodges the Abominations strike only to be caught be the creature's massive foot. The mageling doesn't have time to cry out as he is flung through the air before he impacts into a felled tree. Bones break as Lorrenzo hits. He... he can't lose! What's going on?! 

Another memory. The fires die from Lorrenzo's burning hands as a cool, calming sensation drifts soothingly over his consciousness. He had been saved... by a hunter.

The mageling whispers, "The hunter... what was his name...? Mordane?"


	2. Chapter 2

Too Weak, pt II

Lorrenzo strolls down Murder Row, heading south toward the Wayfarer's Rest, a popular inn near the Shepherd's Gate of Silvermoon City. A name rolls over and over in his mind... for this man had called him 'friend'. While the concept was known to the mageling in definition, his experience with the concept was limited at best.

"Mordane...?" 

Luzran hefts his mighty cleaver in his massive hand, the gargantuan golem of rotting flesh and protruding bones. Lorrenzo can clearly see the monsters organs, caged behind a gaping hole in its abdomen. Luzran roars his triumph over the broken mageling, and an arrow buries itself into the Abomination's left eye, sinking half a shaft deep into the monster's head. A large lynx, native to the Eversong Woods and the plagued Ghostlands, leaps onto the stymied Abomination, its claws raking across the monster's flesh and dragging the creature's blood airborne, leaving red designs in the air.

A second Sin'dorei lands lightly atop the fallen tree against which Lorrenzo has fallen. His hair is tied back into an impressive reddish plume, and his eyes light with keen observance.

Lorrenzo scoffs, a scowl forming on his face. He forces the cool, calming sensation that has begun to blanket his mind to recede. He has no need for this man. His interference has no consequence. If anything, this... Mordane will hinder him from finding his greater power.

"If I need help, I'll ask for it."

The hunter offers the wounded mageling a hand. Lorrenzo accepts the offer and laboriously climbs to his feet with a painful grunt. He knows that he's walking due to a miracle, but by what deity, he doesn't really care.

The hunter is speaking. "Pretty crazy, going against one of these on your own. Are you alright, friend?"

Lorrenzo nods to indicate that he will live. The hunter continues.

"That's good to hear. Let's find a healer, I saw you get punted." 

Lorrenzo draws near to the Wayfarer's Rest. The inn looks to be relatively busy tonight.

"Plenty of tips, then."

Lorrenzo steps over the threshold, taking a moment to inspect the crowd. The usual crowd has arrived; the current barkeeper, Reine, will probably forgive Lorrenzo for being a moment late for his shift. Lorrenzo approaches the bar, nodding to the innkeeper.

Tranquillien. A pathetic bastion of defense against the almost ceaseless onslaught of the Scourge, Tranquillien was set up by the Forsaken to assist the Sin'dorei defense of Eversong. It is in this sad little village that the hunter and the mageling find a priest willing to heal Lorrenzo's broken bones.

"What's your name, friend?"

"Lorrenzo." 

"Good to meet you. I'm called Mordane." The hunter smiles pleasantly. 

Lorrenzo finds himself smiling back.

Lorrenzo absently cleans a wine glass behind the counter of the bar. Many people come through here at night; most want a drink, some want a meal, and others just want to mingle. Let them do as they please. It's none of my concern.

A Troll at the bar is recounting some personal history to a Sin'dorei lady on one end of the bar. A Blood Knight has seated himself on the center stool, and far to the right...

Lorrenzo pauses, curiously inspecting a Blood Elf girl seated on his far right. Her figure is plain at best; hardly any noticeable bust, and she is lean. Very lean. Her face, however... her face is beautiful. Lorrenzo watches the young woman for another moment before turning away to serve another customer. Whilst the mageling barkeeper pours a few fingers of Dwarven Thunderbrew for the story-telling troll to his left, his attention remains focused on this curious young woman. 

She keeps looking around as if lost, and yet she appears curious. She seems to take great interest in anything animated, focusing intently on the Troll's story, then turning to watch the enchanted broom as it makes its predetermined route around the inn.

Lorrenzo offers the ordered drink to its recipient, and then makes a calm approach toward this fascinating young woman. Mordane has been temporarily forgotten; replaced by this new curiosity.

The girl looks up at Lorrenzo, her eyes wide, soulful, and innocent. She almost reminds him of an infant, or a toddler, for she inspects his every feature with profound interest, as if she is learning from his very expressions. But that's impossible... she can't be less than ninety!

"Hello, Miss. May I offer you a drink?"

The young woman tilts her head in a confused posture. Her eyes mirror her actions, her sincerity unquestionable. The girl does not understand. 

"Miss? Is there anything that you would like for me to get you?" Lorrenzo speaks softly, almost gently, with clear enunciation.

The Sin'dorei girl blinks and her mouth opens as if she were going to speak. She says nothing, but her mouth remains open as she stares into Lorrenzo's eyes with her learning, innocent gaze.

Lorrenzo leans away from the counter, befuddled. What the Fel is this? Some sort of joke? A nudge of thought in the recesses of his mind tells him otherwise. Something's wrong.

The young woman continues to watch Lorrenzo carefully. The mageling doesn't like to assume; he prefers cold, hard facts, for he abhors being incorrect. However, he feels like he has no other choice. He turns to the shelves behind the counter and rummages through various bottles and small kegs.

Lorrenzo emerges from his search with a bottle of milk. By the date written on the bottle, the drink is still fresh. The mageling utilizes a little mana to chill the milk with frost from his palms. Producing a glass from beneath the counter, Lorrenzo pours a generous portion of the foaming, ice-cold beverage and offers the drink to the silent, curious young woman.

The girl looks delighted. She swiftly accepts and begins to drink the milk set before her.


	3. Chapter 3

Too Weak, pt III

The young woman has continued to occupy Lorrenzo's thoughts for the past several days, but he has seen nothing of her since their initial meeting. The girl's eyes have awoken something unfamiliar in the mageling's heart. The feeling is difficult to describe; it is that feeling one gets when observing some complex beauty, a welcoming, peaceful feeling, but the sensation carries with it an odd weight, as if something unnatural were causing it.

Lorrenzo stands behind the bar, facing the drink shelves, absently cleaning a wine glass. The action has become almost mechanical, for there will always be glasses needing to be cleaned, and when the bar is empty, Lorrenzo cannot bear to be idle. To be idle is to be thoughtful, and to be thoughtful does little more than allow his mind to wander back to the young woman's intriguing eyes. Such depth... and yet such innocence...

The mageling senses great power in those eyes.

A tiny sound from Lorrenzo's left causes his ears to perk with curiosity. The mageling glances over his shoulder, expecting to see a customer.

The young woman sits in her place on the stool to the far right, her eyes watching Lorrenzo with profound and eager interest.

The mageling nearly drops his glass in surprise. He catches it without difficulty and steadies himself, feeling somewhat embarrassed. Somehow, his embarrassment doesn't really matter to him right now. He smiles.

"Hello, Miss."

Lorrenzo leans upon the counter, opposite of his fascinating acquaintance. The young woman happily drinks down another glass of ice cold milk, and when she lowers her glass, a thin, white line is left upon her upper lip. She smiles pensively, holding the empty glass towards the mageling bartender.

Lorrenzo smiles. "Would you like some more?" He picks the glass from the girl's hands, turning to refill it. When he returns, he decides to experiment, for he is curious as to the cause of this woman's childlike tendencies. "What is your name?"

The girl holds her glass of milk in her hands, looking interestedly this person who gives her nice things to drink.

Lorrenzo tries again, but this time he utilizes a different tactic. He points to himself.

"Lorrenzo." 

The young woman blinks. Her eyes widen a little, her innocent inability to fully comprehend showing through, but... she looks as if she's sincerely trying to understand.

The mageling continues to point at himself. He speaks slowly, enunciating the syllables of his name.

"Lorr-en-zo." 

In response, Lorrenzo receives a tiny whisper, "L... L-lorr-en...zo."

Lorrenzo nods encouragingly. He says his name once again, continuing to point to himself. "Lorrenzo."

"L-lorr-en-zo." 

Lorrenzo smiles and nods gently to the young woman. The mageling turns his hand to point at the girl. He does his best to look inquisitive. 

The childlike woman blinks at Lorrenzo's gesture. Her milk has been forgotten, although she still holds the glass in both hands. Her lips move as if she wishes to speak, but several moments pass before she actually does.

"A...Air-i-a... Air-ia... Airia."

The young woman puts her milk down onto the counter. She mimic's Lorrenzo's action, pointing to herself with an excited smile. "Airia!"


End file.
